Mount! (50 page)

‘Mrs Walton must feel as if she’s giving a children’s party,’ added Dora.

Gala felt completely outclassed. If only she’d washed her hair and bothered with something more appealing than a black shift which, since she’d been up since five, matched the shadows under her eyes. Was she being paranoid, or did she note several female guests clocking with satisfaction that the woman seen kissing Rupert so ecstatically after the King George was nothing to text home about? Dora and Eddie had vanished. One man she talked to slid away the moment another man joined them, and after two minutes, the second man slid away too: ‘Must go and check on my wife.’

If no one had talked to her at parties when she was married, she could always join Ben. She realized once again how sheltered she was at Penscombe, with people always around to combat her loneliness, and Gav and Eddie looking after her, and Rupert to dream about. Oh God, she hoped he wasn’t going to find out she was here.

‘Hel-aire, hel-aire.’

There was a din at the front door as Famous Grouse and Damsire swept in.

But Roddy was going to find nothing to grouse about this evening. He was wearing a check suit, check tie and check shirt, with Damsire in a check patterned dress.

‘We’re checkmates, ha, ha, ha.’

Both were also clad in an air of self-congratulation, aware
they were the oldest people there, but invited because, ‘We get on so well with the young.’

‘Don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your red trousers, Roddy,’ said Mrs Walton.

‘Roddy, Roddy, great to see you.’ Cosmo glided up and led them into the morning room, thrusting huge glasses of champagne into their hands, showing off the beautiful silver and gold St Leger Plate won by I Will Repay, which was now filled with giant prawns and oysters.

‘Pity we can’t drink Krug out of it,’ quipped Cosmo. ‘Not a good Doncaster for the Campbell-Blacks or Love Rat.’ He raised his glass to Roddy. ‘Thank you for seeing off the King in the Legends race.’

‘Terrible loser,’ boomed Roddy, scooping up a handful of prawns.

‘He’s a loser,’ purred Cosmo. ‘Revenge is so far ahead, Love Rat will never catch him.’

The orchestra was playing
Prince Igor
.

‘Hold my gland,’ sang Cosmo, ‘I’m a stranger in Paradise. I hope you’re both going to behave very badly, Enid.’

Gala looked at her watch. If only she could go home. She escaped into the big drawing room. There was Sauvignon wearing a dog collar and a black cassock, shiny dark hair drawn back, yellow eyes matching her gold chasuble, black lashes falling on flawless cheekbones. Surrounded by a group, she had positioned herself in front of one of the long gilt mirrors so she could admire her own reflection while checking if anyone more interesting was behind her.

Gala went to the window to watch the game on the huge chessboard.

‘Hi, Gala.’ Casting aside her entourage, Sauvignon joined her. ‘Do you play chess?’

‘Not very well.’

‘Chess,’ said Sauvignon, ‘is a war game between two armies who line up and face each other. The aim is to take out your opponent’s King.’

‘I know that.’

‘Look at that little pawn, Ruth’s daughter Milly, surreptitiously
creeping up the chessboard to the opposite end. If she gets there, she becomes a second white Queen, a rival to the Queen
in situ
.’

‘I’d forgotten that rule.’

‘You surprise me,’ mocked Sauvignon. ‘Wouldn’t you love to become Queen of Penscombe?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Gala was blushing furiously.

‘We all saw you enjoying a terrific snog with Rupert after the King George.’

‘That was euphoria, a victory hug.’

‘Much more than that, surely. Wouldn’t you like to take Taggie’s place and run things better?’

Hypnotized by the knowing yellow eyes, by the tongue snaking lasciviously over Sauvignon’s lower lip, Gala stammered, ‘Of course not. Taggie’s a darling who runs the place brilliantly. She holds everything together.’

‘That figures.’ Sauvignon smiled evilly. ‘The Queen is the most powerful piece on the board; she can move in any direction to threaten or capture. Unlike the King, who appears all-powerful, but is actually the weakest character, the most vulnerable; he can only move one square at a time. But if he’s not successfully defended, all is lost – like King Rupert.’

‘That’s bollocks, you could hardly call Rupert weak. You seem to know a lot more about chess than you did about I Will Repay on
The Morning Line
.’

For a second an expression of hatred spread across Sauvignon’s face. Her eyes were the colour of amber traffic-lights, warning:
caution, don’t go there
. At the same moment the cassock fell open, showing large bare breasts.

‘Hel-aire, hel-aire.’ It was Damsire and Mrs Walton.

‘We were talking about Rupert,’ said Sauvignon silkily.

‘How is the dear chap?’ asked Mrs Walton, her oiled shoulders gleaming in the fading light. ‘He’s always pestering me to dine with him and bring an overnight bag.’

‘That’s just to wind up Cosmo,’ said Gala rudely.

‘Unkind.’ Mrs Walton raised a plucked eyebrow.

‘Rupert was an ex of mine,’ countered Damsire. ‘Roddy’s madly jealous. I don’t know how Taggie puts up with him.’

‘They’re fine, they adore each other. I see them all the time. Oh look,’ Gala paused in mid-rant, ‘here comes Roberto’s Revenge. Isn’t he beautiful!’

‘Just like Rupert,’ murmured Mrs Walton, as they all surged out on to the terrace.

As Harmony led Roberto’s Revenge up the gravel path between the big lawn and the house, chess players stopped fooling around, couples uncoupled, castles glided up, bishops slid diagonally, knights jumped and emerged from bushes, dancers left the floor and their drinks.

All were marvelling over the stallion’s priapic splendour, every dark-brown muscle rippling, barrel-chested, powerful-quartered, noble head with the same upside-down L-shaped blaze as I Will Repay, gold nameplate on his head collar glittering in the setting sun, which was just hanging round to bid a fellow superstar goodnight. Harmony only kept him in check by a savage chain bit. As he reared up, punching the air, screaming and whinnying, his audience broke into applause.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Cosmo had seized a microphone, ‘meet the Leading Sire, Roberto’s Revenge.’

‘What a magnificent beast,’ boomed Roddy. ‘How can he not keep the title for years to come?’

‘Slightly up behind,’ observed Damsire, and received an icy look from Cosmo, who pointed out that this year, Revenge had covered a phenomenally strong book of mares, and had turned away thousands.

‘One of his head collars sold at auction for £30,000 this week. Ode to Awesome, one of his mares in foal, went for four million dollars.’

‘Is he going to the southern hemisphere?’ called out Damsire.

‘Far too valuable for that, particularly as one of his progeny, I Will Repay, has just won the Derby and the St Leger,’ followed by more applause.

‘All right, on with the party,’ Cosmo laughed. ‘Let the sun go down like everyone else.’

Gala wanted to scream out that Quickly would have left Repay for dead, if Eddie hadn’t screwed up. Then glancing round, she
saw Eddie’s stricken face as he watched Revenge clip, clop back to the stud. Seeing Gala was talking to Sauvignon, he nearly came over then retreated into the house.

‘Pity about Roberto’s handler,’ said Sauvignon, pulling a naked waiter towards her by his cock, so he could fill up her glass. ‘That fat frump lowers the tone. She ought to wear a burka to lead him up, although she’d need a marquee.’

It irritated the hell out of Sauvignon that Cosmo refused to sack Harmony in case Repay and Revenge went into decline.

‘Evidently she’s brilliant at massaging bad backs,’ said Mrs Walton.

‘At least in that way, one wouldn’t have to look at her face,’ mocked Sauvignon.

‘If I don’t eat soon,’ said Roddy, twanging one of Mrs Walton’s garters, ‘I’ll fall over. Oh good.’ His turbot mouth watered, as great platters of lobster, crab and stuffed sea bass were borne by the nude waiters towards the Great Hall.

There was a further kerfuffle as Janey Lloyd-Foxe, looking really good in a gold dress and little diamond tiara, walked in.

‘Janey,’ said Cosmo, kissing her. ‘You look marvellous – who are you meant to be?’

‘Queen Astrid of the Nether Regions,’ giggled Janey. ‘I’m not wearing any pants.’

‘So you aren’t.’ Cosmo’s hand disappeared under her skirt.

Janey was followed by a large man in a gorilla onesie.

‘This is Colin Chalford, he’s come as King Kong. We could have come as Elephant and Castle, but I couldn’t think how to dress up as a castle. Colin, this is your host, Cosmo Rannaldini.’ The gorilla pushed back his head and a great red, roaring-with-laughter face emerged.

Gala leapt behind a curtain. If Janey saw her, she’d be bound to sneak to Rupert and Taggie.

‘Pleased to meet you, Cosmo, thank you for asking me,’ said Colin, who was gazing amazed at the cavorting couples, and the naked waiter who shimmied up with the St Leger Plate groaning now with slices of foie gras.

‘Colin has led a very sheltered life,’ giggled Janey.

‘I must say I’m very hot in this kit,’ panted Colin.

‘You can take it off and have a dip later,’ said Cosmo.

‘Great you won the Leger and the Legends,’ said Janey. ‘Rupert must be incandescent, losing them both.’

‘Descent is the operative word.’

‘And Geoffrey was second, so Brute’s very happy,’ added Janey.

As Brute Barraclough walked in, very much in character as King Lear and already salivating at the talent on show, he was followed by Rosaria who looked even more washed-out than usual.

As Janey introduced them both to the gorilla, Dora drew Gala aside, whispering, ‘That Janey Lloyd-Foxe is a worse bitch than Sauvignon. The poor guy dressed as a gorilla met her on the internet. He’s looking for love and thinks she’s legit, and doesn’t realize she’s doing a piece for the
Scorpion
on meeting different men online.’

‘That’s awful,’ exploded Gala, ‘he looks sweet,’ then, as Colin bellowed with laughter, ‘and determined like Jan to prove his G.S.O.H.’

‘Evidently he’s very rich, so I expect vile Brute will try and persuade him to buy some horses.’

As he looked round, Brute Barraclough, muttering how he must try and track down Sheikh Baddi about some deal, disappeared into the throng. A minute later, having furnished Colin and Rosaria with large drinks, and pecked Colin on his red sweating cheek, Janey murmured, ‘Must go and network for a bit. I’ll leave you two lovely people together,’ and followed Brute into the throng.

Escaping through a side door, passing copulating couples and threesomes, Gala ran past the yard down to the stud.

Overhead, a very white moon looked wistfully from a still blue sky. ‘Why don’t you join the party?’ Gala called up to her. She found Harmony settling Roberto’s Revenge for the night. If she could get Harmony to show her around, she could report on the latest equipment to Rupert.

‘Isn’t he beautiful?’ Gala put out a hand, but the stallion flattened his ears.

‘Don’t touch him,’ cried Harmony. ‘I’m the only person Vengie likes.’

‘I’m the same with Titus,’ countered Gala. ‘I’m the only person he doesn’t bite.’

Feeling guilty because she’d run off and not comforted Harmony when she was crying because she’d been ousted by Sauvignon before the Derby, Gala had brought Harmony a present.

‘This is for you.’

She handed Harmony a box containing a brooch of a galloping silver horse with a jockey on its back.

‘Oh thank you,’ said Harmony, looking as though she’d been kissed under the mistletoe for the first time. ‘It’s absolutely lovely. No, you can’t have it,’ she added to a nudging Vengie. ‘You don’t know if it’s a filly,’ and with shaking hands she pinned
the brooch on her green T-shirt, so it looked as though it was galloping across a vast fertile plain.

‘It’s so lovely, very like Quickly – thank you, Gala. I’m so sorry about the Leger. Poor Eddie must have been devastated.’

‘He wanted to make history,’ said Gala.

‘Hum.’ Harmony opened her big pale mouth, then shut it, then glanced out over the half door. ‘Have you watched the video?’

‘A million times, but the camera’s not on the crowd. Something must have spooked him.’

‘I shouldn’t be telling you this, but were there any marks on Quickly’s neck?’ Then, when Gala nodded: ‘See if you can get a clip of the crowd.’

‘We were so distraught at the time, we didn’t notice anything.’

‘Well, watch out. Cosmo and Isa have it in for Rupert, particularly since Tarqui was poached.’

The music and the yells of, ‘Checkmate!’ were getting louder.

‘It’s like the Ritz here,’ said Gala, looking round the stud. ‘Who’s bankrolling Cosmo?’

But Harmony felt she had already said too much. ‘I’d better feed Vengie.’

As Gala returned to the party, the moon had turned yellow in a paler blue sky and the orchestra were alternating pop music with a pulsatingly sexual beat, with jazzed-up classical music, which Gav would have recognized. Gala so wished he were here.

Meanwhile, Cosmo was talking to Dora.

‘Isa’s missing Tarqui, how’s he getting on?’

‘Upsetting everyone, winding up the horses, set back Quickly a thousand years.’

Cosmo laughed. ‘Still working for us then.’

‘It seems so, and he’s so bloody to poor Gav. He said, in his hearing, that he was as lousy at training horses as he was in bed. Gala was so furious, she slapped Tarqui’s face.’

‘Really?’ Cosmo’s eyes gleamed. ‘So she’s got the hots for Floppy Dick as well as Rupert.’

‘Stop stirring it – Gav’s her friend. I must go and see if she’s OK.’

‘She was fratting just now with Harmony, down at the stud.’

On her way back from the stud, in order not to make herself too conspicuous, Gala climbed through a ground-floor window, into an office with a picture of Byron on the walls. On the shelves were catalogues, files, yellow and green passports and on the desk a framed photograph of a very beautiful Chinese woman with her arm round I Will Repay. What was that about? The woman looked vaguely familiar. Gala was tempted to have a good snoop. Hearing footsteps, however, she dived for the door, turning and fleeing down endless dark and twisting passages, catching glimpses of heaving couples through half open doors, until she heard music and the party roar and emerged into the Great Hall, slap into Cosmo.